


An Open Letter to Burton "Gus" Guster

by plainapple



Category: Psych
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Pineapples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plainapple/pseuds/plainapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An open letter of apology from Shawn Spencer to Burton "Gus" Guster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Open Letter to Burton "Gus" Guster

Dear Gus, 

First off I wanna say I get why you're angry, I do, but buddy, come on, you had to know this would happen. Leaving an unguarded pineapple in our office fridge is like leaving a can of hairspray in David Coverdale's dressing room, you know it's not lasting ten minutes in there before it's gone. 

I know what you're thinking, "But Shawn!" (I wanna make it clear that I'm saying this out loud in my Gus voice - which is spot on and awesome, you know it is and the fact that you keep denying it speaks volumes to your underlying insecurities. You have a smooth chocolate velvet tenor as deep as the Mariana trench. Own it) "But Shawn!" You're saying, "I left a note on that pineapple explicitly saying it was for the special punch I was making for my mind-bendingly boring pharmacological salesperson’s office party and that you were not, under any circumstances, to eat it.” 

Well, two things. One, I’m glad you’ve finally admitted that your office party’s gonna be mind-bendingly boring, maybe now you can skip it and come with me to ten-for-one taco night at Cowboy Carl’s and let me prove to you that I can too keep that much cheap beef down while I ride the mechanical bull. Two, I didn’t eat your pineapple. Was I going to? Yes. Did I? No. No I did not. 

Have you ever heard sculptors talk about how each piece of marble has its own special voice, and they don’t so much shape the stone into a statue as release the sculpture that’s already inside it? Pineapples are like that too. Each one sings out in a soft, tiny little song. If you put your ear to one, you can hear it… “Slice me.” “Dice me.” “Put me on a pizza.” “Bake me in a pie.” 

See Gus, the pineapple knows how it should be prepared, you just have to listen. So what fate awaited your pineapple? Was it to be blended in a smoothie? Was it to be served over a hot hamburger? Was it, horror of horrors, to be cut into chunks and set afloat on a punch that I would never taste? No Gus, such was not its destiny. This pineapple was made for one thing and one thing only. 

Rings. 

Beautiful, golden, pineapple rings. 

And who am I do deny a pineapple its destiny? I set at it, carefully peeling away the skin from top to bottom with my knife, cutting away the eyes in uniform v-shaped channels, lopping off the crown and then sinking my blade to the center to remove the core. It was epic Gus, and I really wish you’d been here to see it. When I was finished I was left with a perfect, juicy pineapple cylinder. It was glistening, my friend, and I just couldn’t help myself, I gave it a nice long lick. 

Gus, I don’t have to tell you that I’m usually a strictly-with-humans kinda guy but… It was so hot outside, I’d been sweating my balls off all day and the pineapple was so cool and damp. I licked it again from top to bottom and my nose nudged into the hole at the top. It’s been a slow couple of months since Abby left and, well, what can I say, I was inspired. 

Look, at my age, a little experimentation is healthy – and you know how they say pineapple builds strong bones? Turns out they don’t just mean when you eat it. 

So yes, Gus, I fucked your pineapple. I whipped out my special skewer stick and roasted it over the flames of love. I rode the pineapple express minus the express part. I gave it up to my yellow mistress and banged the ever loving manganese out of her sweet citric ass. 

I understand this is a betrayal of trust for us, buddy, but I hope that now that you have my signed and written confession we can move past it. Just think of all we’ve been through together, you’re not gonna let some fruit come between bro’s, are you? It was just a pineapple, it meant nothing to me. I didn’t even get its number before I put what was left of it down the disposal. Let’s just forgive and forget. And don’t you dare judge me! I saw the way you eyed that grapefruit Jules was eating the other day. 

Peace Out,   
Shawn 

PS The old saying is true. Once you go pineapple you never go… eh, what rhymes with pineapple? Sign dapple? Mine chapel? Shine grapple? 

Once you go pineapple you never go shine grapple. Words to live by, Gus.  Words to live by. 


End file.
